Reunion...

Hi! I’m back, did you miss me? No, probably not—but I am sure you missed all those pictures of my children I always post? Yes! Anyway, my absence is explained thusly: I got a whopper of a virus and was sick in bed for 10 days. Just as the virus was wrapping things up my husband’s family reunion started. Almost all of his brothers and sisters came out to California for a week of fun and family. Really, it was a crazy-good time, just keep reading to find out how crazy-good it was.

On Monday we spent the day down in Monterey Bay where we went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. The Aquarium was big, cool and crowded…turns out we went on “Local Day” so the place was packed. We had a fun time going from one gigantic tank to another seeing all the fish and sea life. After the Aquarium we all went to dinner at a local sea food place. And for the whole day I left my camera in the trunk of our car—so here are all the pictures I took…

Woops! I guess I didn't take any pictures.

On Tuesday the family headed out to the Santa Cruz Mountains for a hike. I stayed home since I was still trying to kick that stinkin’ virus (it did not work).

Wednesday was packed with more action…we drove north to Six Flags. We walked all over the park, saw dolphins and penguins, ate dip-in-dots, walked all over the park, took the kids on any ride we could, saw tigers, walked all over the park and got soakin’ wet riding a water flume three times. Whew, what a day!

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See that roller coaster cart waaaaaaaaay up there a hundred feet in the air? Uh-huh, that one. My first baby is strapped into that roller coaster cart with her father, and she is about to plummet towards two upside down loops. I stayed below, trying to keep from wetting my pants in sympathetic worry. Will said Lorien had a blast. She was nervous but oh, so excited! When they dropped she started to scream. But 1/2 a second later the force of the roller coaster took her breath away, and she couldn't scream any more. Wyatt was green with envy.

Thursday was our camping day. My sister-in-law, Charity, got us camp sites at the beach. We headed over in the late afternoon to set up our tent and eat food cooked over an open fire. Our camp sites were in the dust-bowl. Try as I might to keep the kids clean, it was useless. Within 20 minutes their faces were brown with dust, and their fingers were black with dirt—but they were happy. Grandpa Clay and Grandma Liz brought bubbles, coloring books, colored pencils and a little toy for each grandchild. The bubbles where a huge hit, and all the kids had fun with the toys and coloring books.



After a chilly night, where both Wyatt and Clare woke up with peed beds (Awesome!) Will took the kids on a hike around the wilderness.

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We spent most of Friday at the beach. I love the beach! Almost every beach in California is only accessible by parking in a designated lot and then descending a series of wooden stairs down to the beach. At all of the beaches I’ve been to so far the stairs have been no big deal, but that changed on Friday. This beach had a literal mile of stairs down to the sand—a mile of them! We hauled our beach stuff down to the sand and considered ourselves lucky to make it. Then came the “good news” all of the beaches bathrooms were back at the top of the stairs. “No big deal” thought I. Our kids should be fine for the afternoon.

After a couple of hours of playing in the water and sand the unthinkable happened—Clare came running up to me saying: “Momma, I’m hot.” Now, “I’m hot” has nothing to do with Clare's physical temperature—but instead everything to do with her three year old bowels…

Clare needed the bathroom immediately!

I tried not to panic while hustling her little body over the sand but within 15 seconds of telling me she was “hot” she had messed her pants. It was awful! Clare immediately broke into hysterical sobs, “Oh Momma!” she wailed, “Poop goes in the potty not in my bathing suit!” She was inconsolable, and I was grossed out. I wrapped her in a towel and started the mile long hike up the stairs to clean her up.

Hey, did I tell you that I am pregnant? Oh, well, I am—twenty-one weeks to be exact! So, you can imagine my delight at having to carry a poo covered toddler up an enormous flight of stairs with my midsection wrapped in 21 weeks of pregnancy. I am also insanely out of shape; I had to stop every 10 stairs so my heart would not explode in my chest.

The awesomeness of the outing did not end there—oh no my friends—when we finally made it up to the bathroom it contained a miniature sink running cold water and NO soap! With our camping bathroom kit locked safely in the car and the keys down at the beach, I was seriously up Clare-crap creek without a soapy paddle.

After a few short seconds of ineffectively splashing my naked, screaming daughter with cold water, Will came to my rescue. He had sensed doom when Clare announced her “hot” status, quickly packed up our gear, and herded the big kids up the stairs behind me. He helped me clean up Clare and dressed her in new clothes while I cleaned myself up. We will NEVER go to that beach again—NEVER!

We really had a nice time at the beach--before "the accident".

Oh hey, here are a couple of pictures of my brothers-in-law and my husband getting into and wearing wet-suits. Why include these pictures? Because these guys look hilarious—and if you don’t agree with me—frankly—you have no sense of humor.

Oh, did I forget to mention that Will had to put his wet-suit on after it was already wet?

Oh, and it is a ladies wet-suit, did I mention that?

See—the whole thing is hilarious! Big, hulking wrestling-dudes pinching themselves into rubber wet-suits which have a decidedly feminine cut—ha, ha, he, he…oh man, my sides hurt.
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